After the sports meet, the three from the staff housing complex went together to eat at the hospital cafeteria, with Huan’er’s mother coming down to greet them as the parent representative. During the meal, she noticed the medical tape on her daughter’s hand and immediately grew serious, “What did they give you?”

“Glucose.” Too busy being happy, Huan’er had completely forgotten about it. She peeled off the tape, but this caused a problem – the injection site was bruised, and the covered area had swollen into a small hill on what should have been flat skin.

Mrs. Chen grabbed her hand, launching straight into a scolding, “Haven’t I told you not to get random injections? Haven’t I?”

This sudden questioning startled Jing Xichi and Song Cong, who were eating. In their memory, Aunt Li Na was witty, someone who would brush off even the sky falling with a casual “it’s no big deal.” She didn’t nag, wasn’t strict, didn’t compare with others – even when Chen Huan’er ranked second-to-last, she thought it was fine, rewarding her with a laptop after paying the hefty school selection fee. In short, if there were a contest for best parent in the complex, Mrs. Chen would be like young Guo Jing, appearing out of nowhere to claim the summit.

Moreover, these white-coated residents had seen it all. Most of the time, they were the type to calmly say “Just put some iodine on it” even when their children were bleeding from falls – they could judge the severity with their eyes closed.

But now, an experienced medical worker was making such a fuss over a slightly swollen IV site – wasn’t this an overreaction?

Huan’er tried to brush it off, mumbling, “I know, it’s no big deal.”

But Mrs. Chen wouldn’t let go, gripping her daughter’s four fingers tightly. “Answer me, didn’t I tell you before?”

Each word was emphasized, the atmosphere dropping to freezing.

“Auntie, today…” Song Cong, sitting next to Mrs. Chen, tried to explain, that since he had suggested the IV, though he didn’t understand why she was angry, it was partly his responsibility. Huan’er cut him off, “Yes, you told me. I won’t dare do it again.”

“There won’t be a next time.” Mrs. Chen’s attention returned to the hand. “Did the school nurse do this?”

Huan’er rushed to defend, “Yes, but it’s not the teacher’s fault, please don’t go to the school. I removed it myself, I was in a hurry to watch the competition so…”

“So reckless!” Mrs. Chen shouted again.

“Um, Auntie…” Jing Xichi started but was cut off by Huan’er pinching his thigh under the table. He yelped “Ah.”

“Just eat your food.” Mrs. Chen tossed out, clearly still angry. A perfectly timed phone call saved Chen Huan’er’s life. Mrs. Chen gave her daughter one last glare before hurriedly leaving to take the call.

“Professional habit,” Chen Huan’er gave her friends a bright smile, seeing their confusion she waved it off casually, “Ever heard of professional rivalry? My mom looks down on the school nurse.”

Jing Xichi went straight to sleep when he got home. His mother woke him when it was already dark, finally allowing the fatigue and tension of the past two days to ease.

Rarely were both busy parents home from work at normal hours. After dinner, the family of three watched soccer in the living room. His interest was inherited from his father – when he was learning to talk, the TV was always on the sports channel, and before he could walk steadily, he was already running around the complex with a ball. He had always been more agile than others, and when he had no match among his peers, he played with older boys in the complex, always being the smallest on the field. Later he was sent to after-school soccer classes, going after school and on weekends. Jing Xichi never found “extracurricular activities” boring. On the contrary, he progressed from city to provincial youth soccer tournaments, with coaches saying he was promising material for professional development. His parents disagreed on this. His mother reluctantly felt it was frivolous, while his father fully supported it, asking around about the professional path. This question went beyond normal parent knowledge of education and employment, and there were no precedents in the housing complex. Just when his grades were improving and his mother was softening her stance, Jing Xichi suffered a serious injury in a casual game.

The injury affected his bones, and during that time he saw Song Cong’s father more often than Song Cong himself.

His mother’s policy tightened: Going to soccer school was out of the question.

Jing Xichi barely protested. The days spent lying in bed had left him disheartened, completely unsure if he could still pursue a professional career.

After recovery, it was his father who secretly took him back to the field against his mother’s wishes. His father’s life philosophy was to fight until the very last moment.

Mr. Jing had been on TV once. When a factory fire broke out due to aging wiring, he faced the camera with his soot-blackened face barely recognizable and said, “You have to fight until the very last moment, right?”

Jing Xichi started training again, even though by then his chance at soccer school had passed. Long-distance running, shuttle runs, squats, push-ups, always with the ball. He practiced until he was dizzy, feeling the ball rolling even when there was nothing at his feet. Disappointment and frustration didn’t linger long because there was one thing he was certain of: it wasn’t the last moment yet.

It was his father’s motto and his own.

During halftime, he lounged on the sofa chatting with his parents, “Our class owes this sports meet to Chen Huan’er. Who would’ve thought she’d earn eight points in the 4000 meters?”

Mr. Jing was confused, “Eight points?”

“First place.” Jing Xichi sat up straight. “Dad, you don’t even know, she ran ten laps around the field like it was nothing.”

“Chen Lei didn’t train his daughter for nothing,” Mr. Jing sighed. “Getting to today wasn’t easy for them, especially little Huan’er.”

“It was super easy!” Jing Xichi strongly objected, thinking of the day’s events. “I’m not exaggerating, even marathon specialists might not keep up with her.”

Mrs. Jing chuckled secretly, “Forget Chen Lei, I bet he’s getting scolded right now.”

“Why?” father and son asked in unison.

“Training his daughter so well she’s participating in sports meets now – what if she gets hurt?” Mrs. Jing shook her head. “No wonder Li Na came up this afternoon with such a gloomy face, not a smile for ages.”

“Aunt Li Na was strange today,” Jing Xichi scratched his eyebrow. “When we three were eating in the cafeteria, she got super serious and scolded Chen Huan’er hard, just because her hand was a bit swollen from the IV.”

“Huan’er was sick? Was it serious?” Mrs. Jing asked.

“Not serious. She hadn’t eaten much breakfast, and probably got low blood sugar after the long run.” Jing Xichi said dismissively. “After the IV was done, the nurse wasn’t there and we were in a hurry to leave. The bruising probably happened because I didn’t press properly when removing the needle.”

Mrs. Jing suddenly raised her voice, “Jing Xichi, who told you to remove it? Couldn’t you find the nurse when she wasn’t there? Did you have to show off your skills?”

His mother’s extreme reaction startled Jing Xichi. He muttered, “Why get so angry about removing a needle?” Besides, Song Cong and Chen Huan’er were cut from the same cloth as him – what was there to show off about this skill in front of them? At most, Qi Qi’s admiring look afterward gave him a small sense of achievement, and yes, that moment felt good. But that was beside the point – at the time, he was just eager to get the patient to watch the competition.

Mr. Jing mediated, “Alright, alright. Son, Huan’er is fragile, and younger than you. Aunt Li Na and your mom are so close, and we all live in the same complex – you need to take extra care and be more understanding.”

This was the second time he’d heard this. In his view, Chen Huan’er, who had run 4000 meters without getting winded one day and easily completed 1500 meters the next, wasn’t weak in the slightest.

“Why does everyone say Chen Huan’er is in poor health?” The boy sat cross-legged on the sofa, looking at his parents. “Aunt Li Na said it too.”

“Never mind that.” Mrs. Jing tossed back unfriendly.

“But she…”

“Not watching? Then go to your room and do homework.”

“Mom, Mom.” Jing Xichi clutched the remote control. “The second half is starting.”

He decided not to pursue it further. He had bet with his classmates on this peak matchup – the losers would have to buy cola for a week, so he had to support his team until the end no matter what. Moreover, he feared asking too much might reveal something he couldn’t handle, like Chen Huan’er not being their biological child and thus not inheriting Uncle Chen’s genes. But that didn’t make sense either – she looked exactly like a combination of her parents. Jing Xichi only vaguely sensed there was a secret about Chen Huan’er, a secret only the parents knew.

Monday back at school meant monthly exams as if the teachers had gone straight from running their relay to making test papers, seamlessly returning to their diligent work. Jing Xichi already had no pressure, and old Xu showed no special treatment for his athletic talent – drowsy after training? Then stand while listening; homework not finished? No field time until it’s done; missed problem explanations during self-study? Private tutoring in the office. These unprecedented normal requirements made the test papers seem simple when they were handed out.

Probably because he remembered where almost every question was in the textbook, and under what circumstances the teacher had explained it.

As for the answers, that was another matter. He’d remember the first line of classical poetry but they’d test the second, know how to write sentences but get stuck on spelling words, understand how to draw auxiliary lines but forget where to start, know the principles of chemical reactions but not remember if the resulting liquid bubbled… couldn’t recall.

Everything he knew was in the question stem – the teachers weren’t asking the right way.

But Jing Xichi didn’t care. Compared to the test scores that would be publicly ranked, he was more concerned about whether his targeted left foot training was showing any progress.